


smoke sessions

by ACertainKindofMagic



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Established Relationship, High Sex, M/M, Marijuana, Oral Sex, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Smoking, merry 420, munchies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23766040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACertainKindofMagic/pseuds/ACertainKindofMagic
Summary: Eddie, 41, tries weed for the first time with Richie.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 163





	smoke sessions

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i wrote this real quick in honor of 4/20 blaze it. so i got this right under the wire.
> 
> no, the other losers arent really in this, i wrote this mostly for porn reasons.
> 
> notes about the contents of this ficlet: im not sure if this applies as richie and eddie are BOTH high at the time, but they do have sex under the influence of marijuana, which could be construed as dubious consent, but very slight. they are in a trusting relationship and they do both consent verbally to one another, but they are, in fact, high. just wanted to put the warning up top just in case.

Eddie’s relationship with medication is… complicated, to say the absolute least. Vitamins, probiotics, antibiotics, pain-killers, antidepressants, stimulants, steroids… You name it, Eddie has probably tried it. And this is just the top of the list in terms of things prescribed by his doctor. He’s also tried essential oils and herbs and whatever else Myra had found out about through her friends or her blogs or from TV. He’s been the guinea pig on however many Multi-Leveling Marketing schemes that Myra has joined out of sheer paranoia and boredom. It’s why they owned an inordinate amount of Tupperware and fragrance free cosmetics.

He supposes it comes with the territory of being a lifelong hypochondriac; you’re sick so you try to find a cure for whatever is wrong with you, even if you don’t even know what’s wrong with you. It’s a tactic he picked up from his mother and a habit that formed into a fixation when he married Myra. So he has a startling collection of drugs in his medicine cabinet that he doesn’t really know what to do with anymore--since he was never even sick in the first place.

Of course, everything he’s tried has been totally legal. Over the counter, prescribed, or easily purchased at your local Whole Foods Market. He’s never tried anything that wasn’t completely legal.

“Weed  _ is _ legal,” Richie says. “This is California.”

In his hand, he holds a sky blue, opaque ziplock bag. It says  _ eaze _ in white lower case stylistic lettering. On the back in the same font:  _ enjoy the moment _ . It’s about as non-threatening as you can make a bag that contains marijuana products. Richie shakes the bag in front of his face, rattling the contents inside, as if that makes it more appealing and less intimidating. Eddie bats the bag away from his face and scowls.

“But not on a federal level,” Eddie corrects.

“Eddie my love, kindly remove the stick from your ass lest you start shitting diamonds,” Richie says. He unzips the bag and produces a small tube with a black and white minimalistic design on it. Eddie eyes it with scrutiny. “Dude. Relax. It’s a joint, not a bomb.” He pops open the top and pours the perfectly wrapped joint in his hand.

“Smoking is bad for you,” Eddie says.

“Then try one of the cookies? I ordered some like snickerdoodle ones,” Richie offers. Eddie must be making some kind of face because he sighs and shakes his head. “Hey man, no peer pressure here. If you don’t want to, then you don’t have to.  _ You’re  _ the one who said he wanted to relax.”

“I  _ do _ want to relax.”

Eddie remembers being in high school, watching Bev, Richie, and Bill smoke sometimes after school. He had been adamantly anti-drug growing up, scared to death of breaking the law and scared to death of his mother. He always felt that she would just  _ know _ the moment he so much as put the crudely wrapped joint to his lips. In all actuality, whatever they were smoking was probably 80% oregano but that clearly never stopped them from doing it. They would giggle and laugh and become more affectionate the more that they smoked. He remembers a fleeting feeling of jealousy whenever Richie would put his head into Bill’s lap and Bill would card his fingers through Richie’s unruly curly hair. Eddie would complain endlessly when they smoked in the clubhouse. He would complain about the smoke and the smell and how they both lingered for days. 

Eddie presses his lips together and looks at the joint. Looks at Richie. Looks at the joint. 

“It’s safe?” Eddie asks.

“Eds, some would argue that it’s safer than half the shit in your medicine cabinet,” Richie says. He holds the joint between his index finger and thumb and holds it out to Eddie. “Walk on the cool side of life for once, Kaspbrak.”

Not that Richie in particular has ever been  _ cool _ at all. The only  _ cool _ person in their friend group had always been Beverly, especially when compared to the rest of them. Like Eddie, Richie had been labeled as a nerd early on their high school career. Eddie has always thought Richie had been cool, but that might’ve been for different reasons.

He had asked Bill about smoking exactly one time, what it felt like when he did it. He described it as kind of a light feeling, like all the things he didn’t know had been resting on his shoulders had finally been lifted off, at least for a little while. Bill told him that he had a habit of thinking too much, of getting lost in the maze of his own thoughts and feelings. He remembered too much. So smoking helped from time to time, even if it was only for a short amount of time.

Eddie would’ve never called Bill depressed when they were teenagers, but after losing your brother in such a horrible way… Well. Maybe it didn’t hurt to stop thinking so much every once in a while.

Eddie takes the joint from Richie’s hand and holds it in his own. It must’ve been rolled by a machine due to how neat it looks. The ones he remembers from teenagerhood were all small and sad and crudely wrapped by Richie’s inexperienced hands. He remembers watching Richie roll them up, his tongue poking out from between his lips in concentration. Eddie had no interest in smoking as a teenager but he liked watching Richie roll the joint, his long fingers working delicately and deliberately to make sure none of what Richie called the “flower” would go to waste. By the time they were seventeen, Richie had gotten disgustingly good at it. 

“So… now what?” Eddie asks. 

Richie grins. “Eddie my love, I thought you’d never ask.”

Richie sets them up outside in the backyard of his house in the hills. He had been ready to smoke inside instead but Eddie bitched about the smell lingering in the house, so Richie relented and moved the set up outside to the patio. It’s spring in California which means the weather is at peak perfection. There’s a slight breeze in the air and the pool in the backyard is beautiful and crystal clear. The sky has picturesque, white clouds dotting the vast blue. 

When Eddie moved out to California a year ago with nothing but two suitcases and a manic feeling in his chest, Richie had opened his door wide open and never asked any questions other than “what can I do to help?” Even though 27 years had separated them, Richie was always the person that Eddie knew he could trust the most with anything. Richie was chaotic and loud and obnoxious, but he never lost the stubborn way he’d do anything for his friends. For Eddie. He remembers how at thirteen Richie, with a fire in his eyes, he’d never seen before, took a bat and smashed in IT’s face without a second thought. 

He made Eddie brave. 

The joint hangs out of the side of Richie’s mouth as he walks over to where Eddie is sitting. Eddie, who lives in the constant turmoil of being attracted to Richie Tozier, thinks he looks like Danny Zuko, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He fishes in the pockets of his cargo shorts and produces a simple blue BIC lighter. The sight isn’t new, but since Eddie is allowed to admire it, he does. Richie picked up cigarette smoking before he picked up weed, so Eddie is used to watching Richie stare off in the middle distance, smoke swirling around his head like a gray halo. 

When they first got together, the taste of smoke and nicotine had been foreign to him. He had been used to Myra’s cool lips, the faint taste of mint from mouthwash and toothpaste, and the waxy texture of freshly applied Carmex. Kissing her had always felt perfunctory, like an obligation, rather than like a gift he got to receive and to learn and relearn every single day. He gripes every once in a while about the taste of Richie’s tongue after he’s smoked a cigarette, but Eddie knows that he’d miss the base note of embers if he stopped. It’s uniquely him and Eddie is addicted. 

Eddie watches as Richie props the joint up with just his lips and raises the blue lighter up. He flicks the light once, twice, before a small fire emerges. He covers the flame with a large hand, protecting it from the wind. He brings the flame to the tip of the joint and he sees Richie’s broad chest inhale, the cherry at the tip going bright as he does. He holds his breath for a moment before turning his head to the side, his jaw on display. He exhales through his mouth, a stream of smoke curling out from his lips. 

“See? It’s not rocket surgery,” Richie says. He taps off the excess ash from the tip into the little ashtray on the table in front of them. He hands Eddie the joint and Eddie takes it, the fingers brushing as he does. “Just. You know. Suck. I know you know how to do that.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes and Richie gives him a flirtatious wink. This, Eddie also isn’t used to. Even though they’re together and have been for some time now, Richie still flirts with Eddie as if it’s the first day of everything. There’s a twist that Eddie still gets in his gut every time he looks at Richie, like his body can’t get over the fledgling feelings of love and affection. His hands itch to touch Richie all the time, in both sexual and non-sexual ways. A hand on his back, a touch to his knee, a brush of fingertips on his cheek. Every touch feels like the first one and they’ve known each other their whole lives.

Richie leans towards Eddie and hands off the joint to him. Eddie takes it, their fingers brushing. Eddie mimics Richie, bringing the joint to his lips and sucking. 

He must’ve made a severe miscalculation somewhere because all he inhales is straight-up fire. He pulls the joint away from his lips and Richie immediately takes it from his fingers. Eddie feels like he swallowed a live flame and it burns in his chest and he coughs, plumes of smoke ejecting from his body with each heaving cough. Richie thumps his hand on Eddie’s back, clearly trying to suppress a laugh.

“F-fuck you, bro! We all haven’t been training our lungs to accommodate fucking carcinogens since they were 14!” Eddie rasps out, a hand on his chest. Richie hands him a water bottle and Eddie downs it, extinguishing the fire in his lungs. He heaves a sigh and looks at Richie, who is oh so casually taking another pull from the joint. He tips his head back and exhales the smoke into the sky, exposing his large Adam’s apple. Not for the first time, Eddie wants to crawl onto his lap and mouth at it, sucking a big noticeable mark there. For all the confidence and fanfare that Richie will pretend to parade around, he has no idea how attractive he is. 

“Alright alright, calm down,” Richie says, attempting to placate him. “Don’t give me that look, it’s your first time! I nearly hacked up a lung the first time too. Just, you know, don’t  _ swallow  _ it. Just like. Inhale. Hold it in for a few seconds. Then exhale. Okay?”

The second time goes a lot better. It doesn’t burn and the taste of the weed smoke isn’t exactly appealing but it’s not as bad as he imagined it would be. Richie grins proudly when Eddie exhales and Eddie can’t help but grin back.

They end up smoking through most of the joint as the sun sets. They talk and laugh and it’s disgustingly close to perfection and Eddie can’t help but feel like the luckiest bastard in the world, sitting across from Richie Tozier. Richie, who makes him laugh every single day. Richie, who finds new and exciting ways to piss Eddie off. Richie, who’s seen him at his lowest points and still loved him. 

Excellence and perfection had been requirements to receive love for Eddie. Unconditional love had never seemed real to him. Love came with so many conditions and rules and expectations. He had forgotten in the last 27 years what it felt like to be loved just for who he was. So he put on the mask, pretended, and acted like he thought he was supposed to. Go to college, get the job, marry the girl, buy the house. Somewhere along the way, his own identity was boxed away on a shelf in his heart and left to gather dust.

Finding Richie again has been like taking that box off the shelf, brushing off the dust, and opening it and himself up again. Finding himself after spending so long being somebody that he just wasn’t. And Richie took all the small, broken, and neglected pieces of Eddie like he had been given a gift.

Eddie takes another puff and he looks at Richie, who meets his eyes and smiles shyly.

“What? What’s that face on your face?” Eddie asks.

“Nothing!” Richie says. He rubs his hand on the back of his neck, like he’s embarrassed. “It’s just, you know, kinda hot?”

“What?”

“You! Smoking! It’s kinda hot!”

Eddie leans back and laughs, feeling… light. His mind starts moving as a slow pace, like he’s walking through water. He closes his eyes and smiles absently at the sky.

“Aaaaand now.”

Eddie blinks his eyes open and lolls his head to look at Richie. 

“Now what?”

“You’re high.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “Oh my god,” he gasps. “I’m high.”

“You’re high.”

Eddie raises his hand up in victory. “I’m high!”

“One last thing though,” Richie says. Richie pulls on Eddie’s arm and, feeling pliant, Eddie goes to him. He puts his legs on either side of Richie’s thighs so that he's straddling him. Eddie’s head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton candy and all he can think about is how beautiful Richie looks in the golden light of the Californian setting sun. He watches Richie’s mouth move and it takes him a moment to realize that Richie has been saying words at him, but everything had been muted until Richie says, “Okay?”

“Yes,” Eddie answers. “Wait. What?”

“Oh sweetheart, you are very lost in the sauce,” Richie says, chuckling. “I’m going to smoke the last of this, but then I’m going to have you open your mouth, because then I’m going to blow the smoke in your mouth. Then you inhale it. Can you do that?”

Eddie levels him with what he hopes is a truly terrifying glare. “I’m high, not an invalid.”

“Alright, then let’s do this thing.”

Richie puts his lips around the joint and takes the final pull, inhaling deeply. Eddie puts his hands on Richie’s chest and it expands under his palms. He smiles as it happens, admiring the broadness of Richie. It had never occured to Eddie that he liked how big Richie was, but he really  _ really _ likes how much bigger Richie is compared to him. Not that he needs to feel safe, but he loves how secure Richie makes him feel, like a boulder against a current. 

Richie’s hand comes up to cup Eddie’s head and he pulls Eddie down, which Eddie takes as his cue to open his mouth. Eddie does this and Richie leans in and exhales slowly, their lips brushing close, a tantalizing tease that warms Eddie’s entire body. Their closeness makes Eddie’s hair rise all over his body. Eddie almost forgets to inhale the smoke, so he does, feeling lightheaded and light-hearted. Eddie looks at him through half-lidded eyes and Richie is looking at him with a similar stunned arousal. 

They’re a breath away from each other so Eddie lets himself fall. 

Richie’s mouth tastes like smoke and weed but Eddie is sure that his mouth tastes the same, so maybe it all cancels out. He feels like he’s moving slow like syrup as they kiss and his mind gets lost inside the kiss, his brain only able to focus on the soft texture of Richie’s tongue, the bumps and ridges of his taste buds. He sucks on Richie’s tongue, slow and sensual as he sits in his lap. Richie’s hands move up and down his sides, flexing and squeezing, almost in a worshipful manner. Eddie absentmindedly grinds down on him, reveling in the low thrum of pleasure that starts radiating through his lower belly and melting through his extremities. Eddie holds Richie’s head in his hands, directing the kiss lazily. Richie’s hair is soft under his fingers so he threads his fingers in the strands and he tugs lightly, which makes Richie moan.

“Richie,” Eddie says, the words tumbling out of his mouth like a prayer.

“Yeah, Eddie baby?” Richie whispers against his lips.

“I’m so… You’re so… This is so…”

Richie chuckles and kisses Eddie’s shoulder. “Good?” Richie asks.

Eddie pulls away and squishes Richie’s cheeks between his hands like a Riche Face Sandwich. “Yes. Exactly. You are so handsome and smart,” Eddie says. He leans forward and kisses Richie right on his squished lips. Eddie giggles and starts to press Richie’s face together so that he looks like a fish. “You look like a fish!”

“So I’m… a handsome and smart fish?”

Eddie thinks on this. “Yes,” he answers.

“Alright, into the house we go, you are high as a kite, Spaghetti,”

“To have sex?”

“No,” Richie answers and Eddie whines, loud and dramatic. Richie just laughs at him, clearly not as affected by the smoking as Eddie is. Richie has probably developed a fairly high tolerance to cannabis. Richie only looked slightly affected by it, his movements slower and more lazy. “I want a fucking Twinkie first.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and he gasps. “We have Twinkies?!”

“Yeah, I bought them the other day and hid them behind your fucking protein powders. Let’s go, my little gym rat.”

Richie slides Eddie off his lap carefully, making sure that Eddie doesn’t fall over. Eddie bats his hands away because he can stand on his own, he’s not a toddler. He follows Richie inside and into the large kitchen. All of Richie’s house is kind of disgustingly large. Eddie had known, in his head, that Richie was a successful comedian with a decent career. But seeing his house really solidified that idea for him. 

When Eddie first walked inside, the house felt strangely like a museum. Most rooms were clearly not designed by Richie and had remained untouched for however long. The place felt empty and too big for Richie. But when Eddie moved in, the places that had once felt cold had started to become more warm and familiar. Eddie isn’t a very sentimental person, but he felt that the house eventually started to become more like a home. Their home. 

Richie produces the box of Twinkies from the back of the pantry and drops it on the counter. “I was saving them for this purpose exactly.” He opens the box and takes out one of the wrapped confections, which is unnaturally yellow and absolutely perfect-looking. He hands one to Eddie, who stares at it for a while. Eddie can’t even remember the last time he had a Twinkie. Myra had been strictly anti-junk food, keeping things like organic trail mix and fruit leathers as snacks. Richie has been more or less a junk food connoisseur for his entire life.

“Need me to open it for you?” Richie teases. 

“Fuck off,” Eddie says. With loose-feeling fingers, Eddie opens the Twinkie. He touches the cake and it’s sticky and squishy at the same time. The yellow color is still unnatural looking to him and it’s too perfect, too flawless-looking. They’re all shaped in the exact same way and he looks at Richie’s Twinkie and it is, indeed, identical to his own. He probably had his first and last Twinkies with Richie himself, secreted in the middle of the night at one of the rare sleepovers that his mother allowed. (She hadn’t known about any of the ones that weren’t allowed). Eating a Twinkie at a sleepover was simply the thing to do, just like making pillowforts and watching scary movies. 

Eddie brings the Twinkie up to his nose. It smells artificially sweet and it makes Eddie’s mouth water. Suddenly, his stomach feels absolutely cavernous. He takes a bite of the Twinkie and he experiences an explosion of flavor, the flavor being an overwhelming amount of sweetness. The cake is sweet and the cream on the inside is also sweet and it makes Eddie hum. It’s been decades, literal decades, since he’s eaten a Twinkie and it tastes just the same as he remembered, maybe it tastes even better than he remembers. Either way, Eddie is ravenous and he inhales the Twinkie at a speed that should be frightening, but he feels like he hasn’t eaten in days and all he wants to eat ten more fucking Twinkies. 

Richie must’ve been watching Eddie eat this Twinkie because he suddenly bursts out into laughter. And, because Richie’s laughter is infectious and Eddie can’t find it within himself to feel anger at the moment, Eddie starts laughing too, doubling over the kitchen island into uncontrollable giggles. 

They both laugh for so long, until Eddie has tears pricking his eyes. Eddie laughs a lot around Richie, but this feels next level. He’s laughing so hard that his cheeks and his abs hurt. Richie is crying with laughter too, rubbing his eyes as he laughs, looking beautiful as hell. Eddie has this thought and immediately decides he has to kiss Richie, so he does. 

He wraps his arms around Richie’s big, broad shoulders and brings him down to meet his mouth. Richie opens his mouth almost instantaneously under Eddie’s lips, their tongue brushing. Richie tastes like Twinkies now primarily and Eddie wants to chase that taste forever and ever and ever. In general, Eddie could kiss Richie forever and ever and ever. And it’s kind of blowing his mind that he  _ can _ .

Eddie pulls away, staying close, brushing their noses together. “I love you.”

Richie smiles and says, “I love you too.”

Eddie dives back in, this time with more purpose. He pushes his tongue into Richie’s mouth, licking his back molars and Richie moans. He feels Richie wrap his arms around his middle, squeezing him close. Their chests mold together and Eddie pushes a thigh between Richie’s legs. Richie breaks away and starts to kiss his neck and Eddie moans softly. He grinds against Richie and, yeah, there it is, jackpot, Houston, there is a boner. 

“Richie,” he moans. “I want you so much and if we don’t have sex right now, I think I might die.”

“Sounds dire,” Richie mutters into Eddie’s neck. The brush of his lips and his words make Eddie shudder. “Can’t let that happen.”

On the way to the bedroom, pieces of clothes are taken off and dropped on the floor as they make out against walls and tables and chairs and other precarious pieces of furniture. Eddie experiences everything in a haze with his only points of focus being Richie and Richie’s lips and Richie’s hands and Richie’s chest and Richie’s butt and just Richie Richie Richie. 

Eddie’s sex life has improved vastly since he started sleeping with Richie. Like kissing, sex felt like part of the job in a relationship, part of the checklist of things he had to do in order to be a good boyfriend and then later on a good husband. He hadn’t understood the obsession with sex and getting sex and having sex. Sex had always been fine, nothing special. Same result could be achieved with masturbation, except masturbation was much more efficient and a lot less work. Myra had never been an overly sexual person either and she wasn’t very adventurous in the bedroom, so to speak. Eddie thought this was just life, just what sex was, and that was fine, Eddie could settle for  _ fine _ , it wasn’t a big deal.

But when Richie touched him, all he wanted was more and more and more. It was like he was fucking ravenous all of sudden, like he’s be starving and Richie was the most decadent buffet in the world. So yeah. The sex? Fucking incredible.

But in this fog of inebriation, everything is suddenly heightened. Eddie didn’t know it could get even  _ better _ than it already was. The sex has been mind-blowing to begin with, leaving Eddie stunned almost every time with how good it felt. However, he finds himself slowly savoring every millisecond of touching and being touched by Richie because the moments are starting to feel like they don’t end, like time has melted around them and he’s lost inside a pocket universe of lust with Richie.

“I think we’re in a pocket universe,” Eddie murmurs against Richie’s lips, loose and sloppy as they kiss.

“Holy shit, I’m going to blow you,” Richie says and he drops down to his knees to do just that, with Eddie propped up against the door to their bedroom that they  _ share _ because they’re  _ in love _ . 

Eddie’s fingers tangle in Richie’s hair for dear life as every single nerve synapses in Eddie’s body fire out a million volts of electricity through his body. He’s overcome with the feeling, but too slow in his bones to do anything other than receive whatever it is that Richie is deciding to give him. Most of the time, Eddie is used to being in control, being the more assertive person in bed. Not that he minds. Not that  _ Richie _ minds. Being in charge feels good, feels powerful, feels sexy. But today he’s happy to be moved around a little, directed a bit. 

Richie pulls down Eddie’s black boxer-briefs, which had been hanging down on his legs to begin with. He reaches a hand and skims his abdomen and his stomach, his palm basically covering the entire expanse off his lower torso; Eddie’s stomach jumps as his touch and he groans, feeling overcome with the pleasure that comes from his long fingertips. In Richie’s free hand, he takes hold of the base of Eddie’s cock. He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. Looking like a fucking pornstar, he slaps the head of Eddie’s dick into his flattened tongue. Eddie whines, high in his throat, and he has to screw his eyes shut to keep from coming all over Richie’s glasses right then and there. He feels bowled over by how turned on he is, by how much he absolutely wants Richie in any way he can get him.

With his eyes still closed, Eddie feels Richie wrap his lips around the head of his cock. Eddie still isn’t sure if he’s just inexperienced as hell or if Richie is some kind of sex god, but Richie sucks dick like it’s his occupation. Richie is… he’s so  _ good _ at it. It drives Eddie fucking absolutely wild, how good it feels to be with Richie in this way. Sex with Richie has never just “okay” to Eddie, it’s never been perfunctory or an obligation. He wants Richie like he’s never wanted anything else on this Earth before. Eddie blinks his eyes back open and meets Richie’s blue eyes from behind his glasses. HIs cheeks are hollowed out as he takes Eddie deeper into his throat and Eddie tightens his fingers in Richie’s hair. Richie's eyes flutter shut in approval at the pull on his hair. And then he gets to work. 

Richie’s head bobs up and down in a mesmerizing rhythm and Eddie is lost in the slick heat of his mouth and he feels like his brain is dribbling out of his ears and like Richie is sucking out his life force through his dick. His throat flutters around Eddie’s dick and Eddie is holding onto Richie’s hair for dear life. His knees are threatening to buckle under him and the only thing keeping him standing is Richie’s strong hand on his hip bone and the solid door behind him. 

He loves this, he loves him, he loves Richie so much it’s sometimes overwhelming to Eddie. He didn’t know that love could feel like this, so all-consuming in the best kind of way. He’s used to love feeling like suffocation, but loving Richie makes him feel like he’s taking the biggest breath of fresh air for the first time in his life. It fills his every atom and makes him buzz with excitement and happiness. Is this happiness? Is this what real happiness feels like? Eddie hopes it is because he wants to die feeling this feeling. 

“Still with me, baby?” Richie asks, his voice raspy from deep-throating Eddie. 

Dazed, Eddie says, “Why’d you stop?”

Richie laughs and goes back to sucking his dick.

Low in his stomach, Eddie feels his orgasm start building. It’s so much, Eddie feels engulfed by it. All he can focus on is the heat of Richie’s mouth and his stupidly talented tongue. He’s making some kind of noise, he knows he is, but he can’t make himself stop. He feels fucking needy as all hell, like he can’t get enough and he’s making small, aborted thrusts into Richie’s skilled mouth. 

He feels like his orgasm is punched out of him and he comes and comes and comes and Richie swallows it all with ease. Eddie feels like he comes for so long, a full five minute of absolute pure pleasure. He experiences entire supernovas behind his eyes as he pulses freely into Richie’s awaiting throat. When he’s finally finished coming, his entire skeletal structure turns to jelly and he slides down to the floor so that he’s sitting. 

He’s face to face with Richie, who looks utterly fucking debauched. His lips are red and puffy and his eyes are bloodshot. He’s not sure if that’s the weed or the dick-sucking. Either way, Eddie kisses him, laving the inside of his mouth to taste himself there. It should be gross, but it never has been and Eddie suspects that it never will be. If anything, it’s hot as hell, tasting himself on Richie’s tongue.

“Bed,” Eddie mutters against Richie’s lips.

Richie pulls away and the darks of his pupils have overtaken his blue eyes. He nods wordlessly and scrambles out from under Eddie to follow Eddie’s instructions. Eddie follows right behind Richie before he pushes Richie’s onto the bed, where he follows onto the mattress with a bounce.

Eddie takes this opportunity to start crawling his way down Richie’s’s body. He presses hot kisses down his chest, his stomach, his happy trail, until he meets face to face with Richie’s dick. He’s still so pissed that Richie was telling the truth about the size of his dick, but he’s finding that he’s never ever going to complain about it. He makes deliberate eye contact with Richie when Richie sits up on his elbows.

Richie, looking perfectly at home naked and erect, smiles at Eddie. “Like what you see?”

Eddie holds the base of Richie’s shaft. He brushes his lips around the tip, wetting them with precum. Richie immediately shuts up, his eyes glazing over in lust.

He doesn’t give Richie any more time to say anything else snarky before sucking the tip in between lips and swirling his tongue on the slit.

“Motherofafuckingbitch,” Richie says in one unsteady breath. He runs his hand through Eddie’s hair and guides him to take more of his cock, bobbing him up and down slowly. He closes his eyes in concentration, his eyebrows furrowing. Richie is making the best sounds in the world as Eddie sucks his dick, encouraging him and complimenting him and praising him on how good he feels. He noses at his pubes, which are messy with precum but Eddie finds himself not at all caring, addicted to sucking Richie’s down as much as possible so that he feels him in his throat for days.

“Eddie please,” Richie says, his voice thick and hungry. One of his hands fists in his hair and Eddie closes his eyes and hums in approval. 

“Why are you so good at this, you’re like some kind of dick-sucking savant,” Richie groans. Eddie looks at him through his lashes and takes him into the back of his throat. Richie’s eyes roll into the back of his head and his head drops between his shoulders. He clenches his fingers in Eddie’s hair. Eddie doubles his efforts, creating a rhythm that he knows will drive Richie to the edge of oblivion. 

“Eddie,” Richie says again. “If you keep going, this isn’t going to last for much longer.” 

Eddie gives him a look that says “that’s the point, dipshit.”

Richie exhales shakily. “Oh, well if you insist.”

Richie tenses up and comes with a sob, coating the inside of Eddie’s mouth. The salty tang hits the back of his throat and he swallows until Richie stops shuddering against his hands. Eddie pulls off his softening cock with a satisfied pop. He grins up at Richie who looks like he was hit over the head with a glass bottle.

Eddie crawls onto the bed with Richie and faceplants into the pillow, a bone-deep exhaustion finally hitting him. “I’m sleepy,” Eddie says, feeling like a child. 

Richie laughs and throws an arm and a leg over Eddie. “Then go to sleep, baby.”

“M’kay,” Eddie says, nuzzling in closer to Richie and he relaxes until he drifts off into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> please feel free to follow me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/TRVSHM0UTH), where i talk for days on end about how it: chapter two has given me brain worms


End file.
